Birdsong
by swans-a-melting
Summary: Faye Lovegood watched the birds. Every morning she would climb the roof of her house to hear their sweet song fill the valley. She wished she could fly too, free and wild and strong. This is the tale of how Mrs Lovegood died.
1. Chapter 1

Faye always liked to watch the birds that flew in the sky. They were beautiful, wild, free, and they sang the most beautiful songs. Every day since she was a little girl, Faye had risen from her bed early and gazed out of the window at the creatures skidding across the blue, and so this morning was no exception.

It was a chilly April morning, and neither her husband nor her young daughter was awake yet, and so it was in the silence of the dawn that Faye pulled on a thin yellow dressing robe, and leaving her feet bare, climbed up to the roof.

A dormer window rose up from the roof; her Luna's bedroom. As Faye climbed, she peered into Luna's room and smiled as she saw her daughter lying on the bed, her blonde hair spread out everywhere, still locked deep in her dreams. There was a small ledge between the window and the roof and, if you were well practised in such affairs, like Faye was, you could wedge yourself into the niche, and watch the comings and goings of the birds in the sky.

Faye tucked her cold feet even further under her robe, and tucked her hands into her pockets. She smiled. Brushing her fringe out of her face, she gazed into the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

The birds.

Soaring and swooping and cheeping for joy. Their song both slowly swelled and filled the bleak and lonely hilltop, and Faye's beating heart. Her eyes traced each individual bird, never missing even the smallest ones (for Faye especially loved the smallest ones), watching the patterns that they traced with their tails in the sky.

Their songs were so beautiful.

_Hmmm, _thought Faye to herself. _I wonder. Should I? Should I try it__? Yes. I must. I must try it. I need to do it._ So she groped in the pocket of her dressing gown, bringing out her willow and dragon heartstring wand.

As she held it in her palm, it vibrated, shooting out her trademark – small silver stars and birds, sending a warm tingle up Faye's arm. She grinned, and gripping the wand tighter, she pointed it up into the big blue sky.

She opened her mouth, beginning to say the charm, the charm to make the birdsong even more beautiful, if possible; even more rich and pure and passionate; the one that she had invented herself, like most of her spells she loved to create, but suddenly a deep, Irish accented voice interrupted her train of thought.

"I thought you'd be up here," the voice said.

Xenophilius. Her husband.

He smiled at Faye with his twinkling pale blue eyes. "Watching the birds again?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she said, and then added with a small, slightly brittle laugh, "I am always watching the birds."

"I know you are," replied Xenophilius fondly, and he swept her off the niche in the dormer window, and into his outstretched arms, wobbling slightly on the narrow ledge as he planted a kiss firmly on her pale lips.

"Careful!" gasped Faye, as her husband quickly stepped his lilac slipper-clad feet back onto the ledge. "Careful! I don't fancy taking a trip from this roof to the ground any time soon! It would not be very good!"

"Else would you die?" a small, childish voice piped up, just behind them, and Xenophilius and Faye simultaneously whipped their heads around.

Gazing out of the window was Luna Amelia, their nine year old daughter.

Luna: clever, dreamy and kind. Luna, with her mussed up, pale yellow hair, sleepy silver eyes and mischievous grin, had been watching them through the window the whole time, and not Faye nor Xenophilius had even noticed.

"Luna!" Faye cried. "How long have you been watching us? You were asleep, deep in your dreams, when I first came up here!"

Luna smiled. "Since daddy came up and found you," she replied serenely, her blue eyes unblinking. Yes, that was Luna in one word: Serene.

"Darling, you really shouldn't spy on grown-ups," Faye said, trying (and failing) to keep a note of laughter out of her voice, whilst Xenophilius snickered with laughter, for he loved his daughter dearly, and always highly encouraged her to be lively and mischievous, brimming over with imagination.

He staggered again, and grabbed once more onto the window frame for support.

"Here," said Luna, tugging at the catch that opened up her window. "Here," she repeated. "Come in here!"

Luna took hold of her father's hand, helping him to climb through, onto the window sill, and to jump down onto the floor, Faye quickly followed, much more nimble and graceful on her feet than her husband.

Luna pulled on her own slippers, and began to clatter down the long, curving metal staircase to their large, circular kitchen – cum – dining - room for breakfast, followed closely by her mother. Xenophilius watched carefully as they as they walked; a small smile on his face.

It was uncanny how they looked so alike, as alike as mother and daughter could be, he thought, except Faye's hair was short, not quite reaching her shoulders and Luna's was long, just reaching her waist.

He was filled with unconditional love for the both of them. He would never let them go.

-X-

As soon as they had finished their lovely breakfast of last night's leftover Fresh Water Plimply Pie (perfect for late breakfasts), and the deep purple, peculiar smelling Gurdyroot infusion (Luna's favourite), the family dispersed to their various rooms to get dressed.

Luna snorted with laughter as she heard Xenophilius warble Celestina Warbeck's "A Cauldron of Hot Strong Love" as he showered and shaved. Faye, passing through, heard what Luna was laughing at and burst out with an uncontrollable snort.

"Not exactly a WWN worthy singer is he?" she smiled jokingly, and Luna had to agree.

Faye traipsed downstairs, sitting down at the table with a quill and parchment, quickly finishing a letter to her elder sister Marie, for the post owl was due any minute.

She scanned down over the three pages of parchment she had written, and then scribbled down at the end of the letter:

_Well, love to all, Marie, bye bye, dear, hope to see you soon,_

_Love from your sister Faye and my Xenophi__lius and my Luna xx_

She rolled it up, slotting it hurriedly into a dark green envelope, just as the tawny post owl, weary from travelling all the way from Diagon Alley, where the nearest Wizarding post office was, zoomed through the window with a soft _flum__p_.

It carried one envelope in its gnarled beak, which it promptly dropped into Faye's lap.

"Thank you darling…" she murmured distractedly to the owl as she copied down the address to her sister's house, miles away in Yorkshire.

"Here." She fastened to the owl's leg, and placed two bronze Knut's into the leather pouch it also carried. "Thank you," she said to it. "Please take this to my sister, Marie."

The owl gave a regal hoot, and flew off out of the window.

She watched it fly away with a soft, sad smile on her face, and she thought what it would be like to fly away too, to fly away to a distant land, to visit the land beyond the sea, to go somewhere beyond anyone's wildest imagination.

Xenophilius entered the room, followed closely by Luna. He pointed his unusually long wand at the noisy, diplidated old printing press in the corner of the room. At once it began to churn out copies of the Quibbler.

"What are we doing today?" Luna asked Faye as she scratched Pocahontas the cat's soft ginger ears, before running a small finger all down Pocahontas' back until she reached the tip of her tail. "And did you know you had a letter on your lap?"

Faye jumped out of her reverie.

"What? Oh." She picked up the letter resting on her lap, turning it over to see who it was from. "Maybe it is from Molly Weasley," she said slowly. "She promised she would send me her recipe for that wonderful treacle tart she makes…when I try it, it never seems to go quite right…oh!"

Her clear blue eyes fell upon something in the corner of the corner of the letter.

Suddenly, all the colour drained from Faye's already quite pale face. She slit the envelope open with slightly shaking hands, quickly stashing it out of sight so that neither her husband nor her daughter could see who it was from.

She did not want either of them to see the ornate, heavily embossed black "M" on one corner.

Xenophilius looked up from his printing press to see Faye reading a long sheet of parchment, looking distinctly upset.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her. "Has someone died?" Luna jerked her head up, quickly switching her attention onto her mother, rather than Pocahontas, whose tail she had been attempting to tie up with some lurid pink ribbon (to try and attract the Crumple Horned Snorkack, of course!).

"What is it mummy?" she whispered softly.

"Oh…I…it's nothing!" she nervously squeaked, clutching the letter to her chest so that it rustled rather threateningly.

Xenophilius looked alarmed. "If nothing is wrong," he said quietly, his eyes glimmering, "then why are you crying?"

Faye crumpled.

Her head hit the table with a dull _thunk_, sending several sheets of parchment fluttering gently to the floor. She took great heaving breaths, loud, shuddering sobs racking her body.

Luna ran around to her, nestling up close, trying to fit her little head under Faye's arm. "Mummy?" she whispered, "what's wrong?"

Faye sat up, brushing damp and snotty tendrils of blonde hair from her tear stained face. She gazed up at Xenophilius, and he saw in her eyes a sadness so great that he nearly began crying himself, a sadness to smoulder, to wrap the room in its dull, smoggy arms.

"Love," he said quietly. "My love…what is it? Please!"

Faye shook her head. "I…I'm just being silly…she whispered. "It's from the…the Ministry. They d-don't like my…my spells. They're…they're having me…tried."

Xenophilius blinked. "Tried?" he asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

"Before the Wizenagamot!" Here Faye's voice cracked, and she broke into a wave of fresh sobs.

"Oh Faye!" Xenophilius cried. "Oh my Faye! Why? When? Oh my goodness!"

Luna slipped out from under her mother's arm, sinking down onto the floor with a silent sigh. "Is mummy going to the Dementors?" she murmured.

Faye screamed. "No!"

Xenophilius picked Luna up in his arms, kissing her forehead. "No, my Luna," he breathed. "Your mummy has done nothing wrong. This mess you will be sorted out, everything will just be the same as it ever was. Really."

He was so comforting, so reassuring, when he did not know himself what was going on, when he himself was just as scared as his Luna.

"When…when is this trial?" he asked his wife.

"Today," she sighed softly, a stray and solitary tear trickling down her face. "I got the initial letter last week. I hid it. I did not want you to find it…I did not want to worry you…" Here her voice trailed away. "I'm due at the Ministry at half eleven," she said dully.

Xenophilius plonked a quivering Luna back down.

"I'm coming with you!" he declared passionately. "Me, and Luna too! They need witness's for defence, don't they?"

A sudden thought entered his head. "By the way…" he asked, "which spell?"

Faye smiled wanly, a sad, half smile that crooked only one side of her mouth. "All of them. And thank you, thank you, for –"

"Coming with you" Xenophilius finished for her.

"Yes."

-X-

Faye Lovegood was due at the ministry in an hour and a half.

Xenophilius had his egg-yolk yellow travelling cloak festooned around his shoulders, the one that had the symbol of the Deathly Hallows (Xenophilius' obsession) embroidered in silver around the hem.

Faye pulled on her calf length, khaki green trench coat with a worn Thin Lizzy patch on it. She had found it in a muggle charity shop, and though she had no idea who or what Thin Lizzy was, she liked it anyway.

Luna was in a plum coloured cloak that only reached her elbows, for she was growing out of it, but Faye had not yet made her one.

The family moved into the living room, where the big fireplace was. Faye and Xenophilius looked at each other, their faces full of love.

Then they threw the green Floo powder into the fire, and together cried the words:

"Diagon Alley!"


	3. Chapter 3

Xenophilius rolled out of the fireplace and onto the hard, stone, very grubby ground of Diagon Alley Floo Station. No sooner than he had stood up and brushed the soot from his elbows, was he quickly followed by his wife Faye, and their young daughter Luna.

Faye looked white and pinched and scared, and no wonder; for she was on her way to the Ministry for a…trial.

She still couldn't really believe it. She was on trial. _She was on trial__!_

Luna plumped herself down on the wooden bench resting against the wall. Xenophilius came and rested beside her, patting the space next to him, thus indicating Faye to join them.

"Come on, my love!" he cooed. "We might as well sit here whilst we wait for the Ministry witch."

Faye smiled, sitting down beside her husband, one small, warm hand joining together with a much larger cold one.

Luna observed them both, watching as Faye gently rested her head upon Xenophilius' yellow cloak clad shoulder.

_Yeuch,_ she thought to herself. _Love. Even though love is…lovely. Yes. Love is lovely!_

Proud of her wonderful conclusion, Luna began to do one of her favourite things at Floo stations, and that was people watching.

She adored to watch the witches and wizards, the men and the women, first shown losing their dignity falling, spinning from a sooty fireplace, then instantly switching in a heartbeat to smart business men, beautiful witches out shopping with friends or families of whining young children, raucous warlocks off for a Firewhisky and a warm, bubbling pint of delicious Butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron, teenagers and children, out to play on the streets, and admire the brooms in the Quidditch shop.

Today was an especially good people watching day. No sooner than she had finished watching a particularly eccentric looking bloke with long blond hair and matching beard, leading three tamed Krups on a long chain leash, than her gaze fell upon a small vending stall selling sweet treats and drinks, tended to by a spotty looking youth.

Luna turned to her father, yanking on his robe sleeve. "Daddy," she began "daddy – can I buy a chocolate frog?

"Hm?" Xenophilius jerked his head around from where it had been lightly dozing, gazing vaguely in the rough direction of where his daughters hand pointed.

"Chocolate frog," Luna prompted.

"Oh…oh yes," he mumbled, ferreting in his pockets and bringing out three bronze Knuts.

"Thank you daddy," she whispered, her soft Irish accent lilting slightly, and she wriggled off the bench before hopping over to where the vendors stall was situated.

Stretching up one hand, she laced the Knuts upon the counter. "Hello," she said dreamily to the youth that was serving on there. "I would like a chocolate frog please."

"Alright," the youth said. "Any preferences to colour?"

Luna shook her head. "Oh no. Milk or white – it's all the same to me."

"Ri-ight," he mumbled. "Well, 'ere you go." He placed a small, midnight blue edged with gold into Luna's fingers.

She mumbled quiet thanks, before adding: "do you know about Wrackspurts? Cos your heads full of them."

"Wrackspurts?"

"Oh yes. They enter your head through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. Dirigible plums usually work to get rid of them – at least they always do with me! Anyway, mummy says I'm not allowed to speak to strangers, so, bye-bye."

And she waved at him quite cheerily as she ambled away. He called nothing after her retreating figure.

"What were you saying to that young man?" her mother inquired once Luna was repositioned upon her seat. "He looked most alarmed."

"I was telling him he had a head full of the Wrackspurts," Luna stated. "Because he did." She slid her finger under the strip of glue that held the box together, easing out a small, white frog wrapped in cellophane, and a luridly embellished hexagonal card with an image of an elderly wizard brandishing his wand quite violently at her.

"Oh, it's Merlin," Luna noted. "I've got him at home."

As she munched the frog and read the bronze copperplate inscription on the back, her mother was watching two women who were approaching them slowly. And, Faye noticed with a sudden, unpleasant surge of adrenaline, they both wore badges of a small, iron wrought "M". They were the Ministry Witches.

The first lady stepped straight up to Faye, who quickly rose to her feet. "Mrs Lovegood?" she enquired, her town friendly and polite. "Persephone Mgambo, Misuse of Magic Office. Pleased to meet you." here she extended a large hand for Faye to shake.

Faye shook the proffered hand, and nodded. "Mrs Lovegood," she confirmed. Then, gesturing behind her, she added, "and this is my husband Xenophilius, and the child is my young daughter Luna."

Ms Mgambo nodded a polite hello, but her companion merely curled her lip at the sight of them. "Family outing, eh?" she smirked.

Faye bristled.

"Titania Olsen," the woman announced with an imperious wave of the hand. "Also from the Misuse of Magic Office."

Xenophilius snorted, for reasons Luna couldn't fathom in her nine year old mind, so instead she merely began the task of taking in the two women's appearances. Persephone Mgambo was a very tall, sturdy black woman, with long, braided hair swept into an ornate updo on the top of her head. She was garbed in a practical white shirt with only a few ruffles and frills around the collar, grey waistcoat and matching tailored trousers, and, to top all of this off was a long, flowing midnight blue coat, peppered with small gold stars – the very coat that had featured on the cover of only last month's edition of _Witch Weekly_, Luna noted with surprise.

Her shoes matched this coat, and the nails on the end of her fingers were varnished with yet more gold, only this time it was not star shaped embroidery, but flawless, unchipped nail paint. She was the picture of elegance.

Titania Olsen's method of dressing was much more frumpy and bizarre. As short as her colleague was tall, her ample frame swathed in a voluminous black dress that swept the ground when she walked; a factor which resulted in an unfortunate layer of dust on the minute hem. Her hair was as equally black, though embellished here and there with the odd silver streak, and coiled tightly into a bun, with the front twisted into ringlets which she unfortunately she did not wear all too well. Her pasty cheeks were rouged in a manner that was no way becoming, and her watery blue eyes had no sentiments of kindness in them.

"Well, we all know why we're here," Ms Mgambo sighed. "We might as well set off to the Ministry now. It's not usual they send out escorts for people, but we decided to do so for you. Not my decision, so don't ask me why, though."

Faye shuddered slightly. Was she so criminal she had to be escorted? Was that why they were there?

Titania Olsen laughed suddenly, as if she had read Faye's thoughts. "We're not trying you for a sentence in Azkaban here, Mrs Lovegood!" she scoffed. Her tone was derisive.

"N-not trying me?" Faye stuttered, bemused. "What is it then?"

Ms Mgambo shot Titania Olsen a frown, and a slight shake of the head. Luna wondered why. "We just want to ask you some questions, really, Mrs Lovegood," Ms Mgambo sighed at last. "We just need to make sure that what your experiments aren't too dangerous or against Wizarding Laws, or of Dark intentions. Although" – "here she permitted herself a small smile – "judging from what I have seen of you, you do not strike me as a twisted Death Eater."

Faye gave a small smile at that. "No," she said. "I am not a Death Eater."

Titania Olsen shot Ms Mgambo a disapproving look. She clearly believed that one should not just automatically someone's evil or otherwise intentions just from their looks. Although, Titania had to admit it to herself, as she looked up and down the Lovegood family's rather peculiar, slightly bedraggled appearance, that none of them looked like Death Eaters in the slightest.

"I think we should set off, anyway…" Ms Mgambo mused. "Come along."

Faye nodded back at her daughter and Xenophilius to follow her. Luna hopped off the bench, hurriedly stuffing the chocolate frog wrapper into her pocket as she went, licking any possible small crumbs from the crevices of her mouth.

When the whole procession reached the designated fireplace, the attendant that leaned lazily against the mantelpiece tossed in a handful of the powder without even looking. "In you go," he said. "Just say the name of wherever it is you're going."

"Everyone get in together," Ms Mgambo decided. There was something so business like and efficient in her air that no one ever dreamt of questioning whatever she said.

Titania Olsen was the last to enter the cramped fireplace. She called out the words "The Ministry of Magic!", and then the fireplace spun and different grates flew by, and everyone's eyes tickled with the dust…and then they all stepped out of the green flames, and into the cool, golden Atrium.

"And this," Ms Mgambo declared, "is the Ministry of Magic."


End file.
